Live from the Penis Gallery

One of Us

2012-01-04T14:24:00.000-08:00

Image of Esme taken from http://esmeandyou.tumblr.com/page/2#3

On New Years morning twenty-nine year old Esmeralda ‘Esme’ Barrera was killed after returning home from a New Years Eve party. Esme was a counselor at the Austin Rock Girls Camp, a special needs teaching assistant at a local Austin elementary school, and record store employee at Waterloo Records, a popular Austin record store. Police found her body at 3 am on the 3100 block of King Street, not far from the party she had just attended. In the same small block radius that evening two other women were attacked. According to reports a friend discovered Esme’s body at 2:45 badly injured, she phoned 911 but Esme died shortly after of her injuries. New details are still being released.

On the afternoon of January 2nd I signed into Facebook and saw the news of Esme's death in fellow journalist and friend Jessica Hopper's newsfeed, I looked below her status update and saw that my best friend from college, social worker, music lover and San Antonio native Heather Mockeridge had posted the same link. I opened the story and my heart sank. I knew that at that exact moment another good friend, feminist filmmaker and first wave riot grrl Cathy De La Cruz was on an airplane toward LAX, returning from visiting her family for the Holidays in Texas. I knew that Cathy most certainly was at the very least an acquaintance of Barrera. I also knew from looking at her last Facebook update since leaving Texas that she had not yet heard about the murder.

There is no making sense of Esme’s death. Her tragic passing is, in the words of Hopper, an ‘unfathomable’ loss to her close friends and family, it is a loss as well to the feminist, music community. I did not know Esme, in fact we had never met, but she was as important to my spiritual life as De La Cruz or Mockeridge. Across the country a network of women is mourning Esme, not just for themselves but for the women and girls she inspired, for the work she had yet to do that will not get done and most of all, as a soldier in a small yet growing network of women whose main objective is to elevate girls and women to a position of self empowerment. Women like Ann Powers, Daphne Carr, Erika ‘EMA’ Anderson, Erica Flores, Cathy De La Cruz, Sara Marcus, Tobi Vail, Christene Kings, Margaret Wappler. I mention their names because their names are important. They are just a handful of the hundreds of women who undoubtedly felt an unspoken connection to Esme’s purpose and life. Writer and queer activist Raquel Gutierrez posted that Esme’s senseless death reminded her of another tragic loss almost twenty years earlier; Mia Zapata of the punk band The Gits, who was also killed walking home. The get home safe project, Home Alive, which advocated women learning self-defense was created in the aftermath of her death. Gutierrez noted that ‘Rad women shouldn’t die before their time. Period.’ Someone else made an insightful comment underneath speaking to the self-defense classes Home Alive encouraged, “This is tragic. Self-defense classes yes, but another kind of self-defense: making sure children are raised to respect women on all levels.”

The fact that Esme died in a manner which she was working to eradicate, and almost twenty years after the death of Zapata, in an almost identical scenario is a chilling reminder of exactly how important the work that Esme and the community she belonged to is doing. If only her life could have been spared. Her death was useless. Her life was necessary. My heart goes out to her family and friends.
To make a contribution to help pay for funeral expenses for Esme’s family click here. http://forouresmeb.blogspot.com/

A Very Unhappy Birthday To You (Planet Earth)! aka, the list to confuse all lists (Demolish)

2011-12-31T14:40:00.001-08:00

this Walt Whitmany image courtesy of Jessica Hundley.
Pinkman blows away 2011!
2011 was a pretty strange year personally, not great, not terrible- I will come to view it I believe as the year I was in between- waiting for folks to get back to me, for me to apply for things, for hard work to crystalize into something substantial. Maybe 2012 is the year all this, what seems at times endless work and waiting, comes home to roost? In any event, as usual and how I suppose most of you as well view the day to day, I don't experience life as a series of newly unfolding events, many things I discovered for the first time were in fact old to the world, as Thom Anderson says in Los Angeles Plays Itself, the present is a combination of the future and past come to rest. Here is a list in no particular order of what I enjoyed the most for the first time in 2011.
Crazy Band

After waiting for things to happen, 2011 might go down as the first year since High School I didn't go to that many shows. In fact most of what I discovered music wise came from reading other critics I like instead of just seeing bands live. This was weird but also strangely normal feeling. I'm more worried that my creaky old lady styles aren't bothering me more. I love music but this year I let it take a backseat for the first time in a long time. I don't know what this means to me personally except that I hope to see more music in 2012. I'm back in the saddle at the Weekly so perhaps that will move things along. I think I experienced a depression or weird kind of PTS surrounding music last year that made me question my work in a way that was frightening. I might now just be lifting my head above ground to sniff out whats new. In any event, I really liked this short video snippet by Crazy Band.

Yotam Ottolenghi's Plenty and cooking!
Have you seen Yotam's vegetarian cookbook Plenty? It has completely revolutionized my life. I literally cannot express the joy I have from looking at it's luscious pictures. This year I got a nice wok, a super duper blender, went to the Framers Market regularly, gardened a few small but vital veggies and renewed my commitment to a mammal free diet- I eat seafood, dairy products and eggs- and continued to try new recipes. 2011 was the year I cooked. And I'm not ashamed to say that a few things I made were AWESOME.

Los Angeles Plays Itself
Speaking of Thom Anderson if you haven't seen his 2004 film essay Los Angeles Plays Itself, do yourself a favor and see it. It is liquid brillz.

LA Plays Itself,
Not to dethrown the former but it's predecessor LA Plays Itself by Fred Halstead is no less incredible. I saw it this year too and it blew my mind. No pun intended. Maybe a little. Here's a snippet of it.

Movies:
I saw Drive and LOVED it, I love this a little more: click here for maximum awesomage

Which led me to The Thief with James Caan, Michael Mann's first and only good movie. Holy snakes this shizz was good. The soundtrack is by Tangerine Dream.

Bridesmaids!!
Im a broken record:
EMA best of best.

Best thing I missed but wished I could have seen:

Cowboys and Angels from machine project on Vimeo.

my tape recorder was in the show though! The same one I used for our LA Times interview. Google it if you're interested.
New new new not broken record faves:
Zola Jesus, Ke$ha, Austra, Men:

Off our backs was my second most played record of 2011
Adele/ Man, I loved Adele something fierce this year.

Game of Thrones!!!!

I watched the entire first season in three days.
Also, Breaking Bad!!! Jesse Pinkman is my new TV boyfriend.

The murals of Ramona Gardens. I rented American Me from the library because I was bored and couldn't find Double Indemnity and also because I hadn't seen it since elementary school. It was as schlocky as I remembered but the DVD version came with this amazing documentary put together by EJO about the White Fence and Hazard gangs of Boyle Heights in the early 1990's, arguably when they were at their most active. Afterwards I did a little research and came across Ramona Gardens, the oldest public housing project in Los Angles and one of LA's most dangerous areas. Literally hundreds of people have died in it's confines since it opened in 1954. What was remarkable to me however- aside from being half Latina and having a vested interest in it's subject matter, also as an Angeleno- was the incredible art that proliferates there as well. The murals are famous and have been living and breathing for almost as long as it's walls have held inhabitants. More are panted all the time, the old ones are restored annually by local artists and for the most part left tag free. There is a culture of respect within Ramona Gardens to keep the murals safe and intact. They are in some small way, East LA's version of Watts Tower. Folk art created to uplift and brighten the community. The documentary was by far superior to the movie.

It then led me to this amazing short film made by the LA Times about this exchange program that happens with Homeboy Industries and a Pritchard Alabama church group.

These documentaries really got me thinking about my role as a feminist. While intellectually I know that the treatment of women in this world depends on both sexes I have primarily to this point been female focused; focusing on their self esteem, sense of bodily self worth, and their autonomy as individuals. These documentaries for the first time really opened my eyes to the fact that reaching men in a healthy way and filling them with the same feelings of importance, devoid of violence and entitlement is equally as important. That men cannot simply be asked to comply, but must also be shown compassion and understanding. I will try to be a better human to all people in 2012.

Sir Didymus

2011-12-17T18:08:00.001-08:00

Clearly I should just change the name of this blog to "I wish I was still 12 years old" because looking back at the last few posts I have some sort of early life yearnings happening. Maybe it's the Holiday season? Who knows. In any event, Sarah's room was always a place I wanted to be. It's so cozy looking.

You're What the French Call, "Lazy, Imcompetant"

2011-12-10T18:34:00.001-08:00

One of the greatest movies ever made.

Casa De la Nikki. I might have a Home Alone/Christmas Story double feature sometime soon. Bake some cookies, curl up with the cats, make some cider and enjoy the the Holiday spirit. Everything is better when there's no one there to pester you.

Mozel!

Exsqueeze me, but are you blue?

2011-12-10T13:15:00.000-08:00

Actors Evan Peters and Ezra Miller should start a band called Daughter Bang and their first album should be called Too Cruel for School. That or Columbine Coffee, Freshly Ground.
Apparently it's taken 11 years for mass school shootings to become en vogue. Once again, Gus Van Sant was ahead of his time. Too bad Elephant sucked donkey ballz. I like to pretend that GVS and Tim Burton's careers are like the Godfather 3, after a certain point in each they just don't exist.

Also, this movie was the biggest bummer EVER. It was goodish, but man, it was bummtown USA.

Fantastic Voyage

2011-12-05T21:23:00.000-08:00

This used to be my favorite band and this was my favorite song and I was at this show. We lived a few blocks away and walked to Maccaren every weekend those two summers to see the free shows in the pool.

As a young woman in my teens and early 20's I had fantastic tits. In fact I had a fantastic body, and I say that with all humility. I was thin as a grasshopper, had long legs, large C's and high cheekbones. I never exercised or dieted and was just, thin, I guess. I was a total obnoxious dick about it. I was so vain and nobody stopped me, I thought I was the most beautiful person in any room and I had white teeth. I faked stupid and unaware until my head fell off. I tried briefly to be an actress, had head shots, talked with a few agents, made the rounds. I did it as a kid too, with my mom, being lugged from banquet rooms in Hotels by LAX and down to small Hollywood bungalows that had been converted into kiddie casting offices. I had mild success. I often feel like I've lived a hundred lives. I've been rich, poor, brown, white, a chola a snob, the worst kind of white girl, a drug addict, an alcoholic, a New Yorker, a Brooklynite, a hippie, an only child a sibling an outsider a friend, a slut and a liar. I've been an asshole and shithead. A poet, a patient and a beginner. A name dropper and girlfriend. I've been a chronic cheater to a fat girl with no sex drive, I've been a prude and a pursed lipped workaholic. I've walked away from five friendships and have had more than six best friends.
Things I know: I will never be a wife, I'm in love with a woman I can never love fully because I have the sad misfortune of being a heterosexual, my best friend is Nick, but for how long? Till what? Maybe nothing, maybe he's the next long time. I've been the same person more or less for the past five years, boring, a go getter, getting fatter, happy, regular. I don't skip down alleys anymore splashing in midnight puddles or run through Washington Square park trying to buy heroin from homeless guys selling AJAX in plastic bindles. I don't try to fashion syringes out of baby droppers or hang out with girls who have babies and remember working in Texas roller rinks when they found out their first boyfriend's sister died in Waco with all the other crazies, their big pregnant 16 year old belly pressed against the roller rink glass. I got out of that place, I was never in that place actually, it was just a story i heard one day when that girl and I were smoking weed in the backseat of my car in a parking lot at PCC. She visited me when I moved to NY. Her parents were rich and there was a big article about her and a bunch of her best friends from high school that had been involved in a heroin epidemic at their private Texas high school. Her parents had put her on a plane to Sweden to go to some fancy rehab. She dropped acid as the plane took off and shattered a glass in her hand and bled the entire flight over. We went to Washington Square park for her. She slept on the floor next to my bed. She's a lawyer now. Sometimes when you've been sick and then you get better you feel like you've been through a long selfish war and you miss that part of yourself and you say, hey, that wasn't so bad. I've always been cursed with wanting to crawl back and hide in the past.
None of this was about me, by the way, so don't get the wrong idea. I'm just the same ol' person you've always known.

Ressless Energy

2011-11-23T16:56:00.000-08:00

How cool would it be if Justin WAS the father?!
How much more exciting would the world get if Christopher Walken actually did it?

I am better than my best self ten years ago, and that's still not saying much. I am lazy and filled with fear and stuff. Procrastination creeps in on every corner, debilitating me from every angle. I get it done but it takes the involuntary flexing of each toe a thousand times an hour, the stranglehold of my own fist by the other, the biting, gnawing and chewing of my inside cheek until the metallic taste of spoons mingles with my spit. I will stuff it in my mouth, I will heat it up, spit it out, lean down on my one bum knee that is spongy and numb until it is not and then it's a violent searing pain of a thousand needles racing toward my shoulder blade, and puke it out. It's teeth grinding in the middle of the night and two hour stare-a-thons at my blank TV wishing I had invested in the free box. It's checking e-mail, creating user ID's, baking cookies, making chili, taking holiday portraits of the cats. The closer it gets the tighter I wind. My mom was a long distance runner, marathon winner, athletic get up at six in the morning obsessive compulsive make sure the ovens off weirdo. Now she drinks champagne in the morning and walks on the treadmill while eating dinner. I can unflex this muscle all day long but I know it will get done. Don't ask me to do anything in the meantime, I'm paralyzed and not so much the good person you're hoping for.
Here is some delightful internet gristle.

Blog highlight: Video Deathray has taken an exciting new direction and it's being taken there by the wonderful Nicholas J. Katzban. Don't you wish you knew what the J stood for? Clicka me and and me for the first two. If you like this Ahnold commentary you will like Deathray.

My sister got married and we stopped in Joshua Tree on the way back. Oh sunset, oh underwater wasteland, beautiful mountains turned to a fine thin powder, you entrance me so.

Monkey suits.

My sister and her maidens. True story, the first time i ever went bra shopping I was 11 and with my mom at Macy's. We were in the dressing room and she was trying to harness me in. A sales girl came by and asked if she could get us anything else from the floor. I was trying on a Maidenform bra and needed a size up except I got the name of the bra confused and responded, "Yeah, I need a new Maidenhead."

The portraits in question.

Debbie Does Daylight Savings

2011-11-06T21:23:00.000-08:00

Holy guacamole. Satan on a cracker. Two snaps and a butt plug, well look at this here. It's been two months since I blogged. What can I say? I lost interest, had developed a loving following of supportive grownups, well, grownups about thirty years my senior- see below post- and honestly, I couldn't drag myself into the place where I wanted to wait ten minutes for one picture to upload at a time. Even right now I struggle to finish this sentence. All I've had the stamina for these past few months is my internet boyfriend Michael K over at Dlisted, my TV boyfriend Jesse Pinkman over on AMC and TV links and Gawker to snort and half smile at Kimmy K's divorce and Baby Bieber's baby mamma drama. But why, you ask- no, I know you really don't- well, mostly I've been working on this PHD application that is like pulling my brain out of my ear, you know, like the Egyptians with the brain jars and the mummy organs? Like that. So that's that. I will now proceed to post random images and share with you the rainbow slide show of what you've been missing (nothing, I promise). Also, my computer says it's 9:30 but it feels like it's 10:30. Just when I thought i couldn't feel any more ancient.
First up is Halloween. I was Chairy and Nick was Larry. We were Larry and Chairy.

I painted my yard chairs blue and have been working on my garden. It's a peaceful endeavor.

Nick's friend Alex came into town because his movie was screening at the AFI fest and omg it's soooo good. You should definitely go see it. It's called the Color Wheel.

Biz had a birthday! xoxox

And so did Daniel! (he's in his Halloween costume)

Kate and I started the fourth season of 5 Points and this Sunday is the second reading in! Come by and check it out:

Halloween friend update:

Heather killed it.

Also, also, could Charlotte and her man friend BE any cooler? I am so in love with this woman. Tejas I'll see you soon.
Okay, goodnight sweet internet prince. I'm back? Let's never be torn apart again!

All My Friends Are Dead- A message from our sponsors

2011-11-06T19:02:00.000-08:00

Hi! Howdy! How goes it, mom, grandma, pops, boyfriend's mom, mom's best girlfriend, family members and other various oldsters? How were the sixties? Pretty great, huh? Yeah, I had some dreams, but they were just clouds in my coffee. Oh you guys get that reference, don't you? Of course you do, it's Carly Simon, she wrote kids books you bought me in the 80's and sang songs you saw in person with dad and you know, she's great, huh? I know you and Nora and Gail and Tom down at the golf course yuck it up about the good old days quite a bit. What about that time you all took the kids to Tahoe and got drunk on that bottle of red wine Barry brought from Mendochino? Man, he was so smug on that trip because he had just done that small walk on part in Thirty Something and remember no matter how hard you tried to get the kids to pass out so you could all hit the hot tub they just wouldn't? Gee, that was a good time. Amy kept coming downstairs to say she was thirsty, oh man, those were the days. Miss those early 80's, yup. Oh, I'm sorry, what am I doing here on Nikki's blog? What? Oh how did I get here? Wow, sorry, I must of been in a fugue state where I thought she took the 'Stay Out!' sign off her bedroom door. Whoops, my bad, I'll just mosey on out of here because I'm an OLDSTER.

Look, I get it, I'm an adult, but seriously, if you're in your 60's and at one time in your life you screamed at me to shut up, put my seat belt back on, and then handed me a bottle of water and a zip lock bag full of grapes PLEASE, STOP READING MY BLOG!!! New rule, if you were born between 1945 and 1955 and you've met me in person, please, visit The Hairpin, or perhaps, Rookie, both fine blogs that the hip kids read. Lots of jokes and tokes.
This goes for Facebook too. Don't you get it mom and dad? Your kids don't want to be Facebook friends with you. STOP ASKING. It's not because we don't love you, it's because we do. Look, the internet, it was ours first, obviously you're welcome here, but until a few years ago it was a bit like being under the bleachers and smoking a joint. It felt big and small at the same time and it was inclusive and safe. We could be ourselves and we didn't have to watch our back because you were watching Masterpiece Theatre and yelling at me to get a job. Now it feels like the PE teacher is trying to climb under the bleachers with us and is telling lame jokes and lighting the pipe with a gag lighter shaped like a dildo, its weird and uncomfortable, because you know, he's the PE teacher. That's what this is like now. Before grandpa sent me horrible political forwards and mom didn't know what an e-card was. I could be a public person because no one knew me on the internet. My blog started in 2006 in my Brooklyn bedroom and it was me and million strangers. I didn't give a crap about who read my blog because there was no chance in hell I would ever meet them. I appreciate that it has a large following and has grown over the years- no matter how much that continues to baffle my mind because it still feels like the majority of what I post is inane navel gazing, lady versions of he's hot and fart jokes- this thing also sort of acts as my website now, maybe it's time to get a real one of those, who knows. But that's kind of the other point, this lil bloggy blog is how I present myself to the world, editors and such, it's written in a persona, dontcha know? Even this post! Talk about meta, right? And I don't want to have to worry about offending you or embarrassing myself because no matter how much you say you do, you really don't know what that means. The whole persona thing. It's the same reason you aren't allowed to read my fiction, dad, because you automatically think it's about you. Even when the character is a twelve year old blind girl with tourettes. And that's the entire point on top of a bagel toasted point, I don't want to have to think about thinking about you when I'm you know, creating or whatever. It's great that writing from this here lil blog has even been anthologized. I love it! But mom, dad, it's kind of like my internet journal. Nothing on here is private, but boundaries, yo. It's seriously made it less fun and I feel kind of dorky and embarrassed having to hear that other members of my family and or spiritual extended love ones, recent and otherwise, read it. I mean, Schadenfreude, doods! ever hear of it? Obviously I can't stop you from reading my blog, no? But maybe I can stop you from talking to me about it? Possibly? That's the other thing, guys, the internet, it's sort of like those Vegas commercials, you know the ones, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas? Yeah, like that. No one actually talks about their blogs face to face. You talk about blow jobs, new tea at Whole Foods and trying to save money to buy a vintage couch on Craigslist. So you know, shhh.
The internet is littered with the carcasses of dead blogs, sad lonely blogs aging in the wind. I will bet dollar to doughnuts I know why.
Love- really, honestly, tons of love-, bratty brat face, who do I think I am, ungrateful smart alek, too big for my britches, narcissistic, you're no spring chicken yourself Miss 31 and getting older, Nicole

Here, this ones for you guys, I know you like the Willy J.
Actually, an amendment. If you can name the person below without doing a google image search, you can still read my blog. xo

Dillatude

2011-08-25T23:15:00.001-07:00

This is Gena the Crocodile, from a Russian children's show created in 1969. "He sings about celebrating his birthday, regardless of the rain because birthdays only come once a year." Thanks Nick for introducing him to me!
After the hippopotamus click here!, my favorite animal is probably a lizard followed close behind by crocodiles and alligators. I just love their little fancy faces and dilla-tude. Plus they are just unbelievably cute. Look at this little fellow: Why hello!

Lyle, love! <3

This is my favorite alligator at the LA Zoo. I think he might be the only alligator at the LA Zoo actually. He was rescued from an alligator farm in Florida. Photo by Davida.

Sneaky sneakers! Hide your hippos!

Fiesta de la Sausage 2011!

2011-08-13T00:28:00.000-07:00

OMG CAN YOU BELIEVE IT HOLY CANOLI ITS THAT TIME OF YEAR AGAIN!!! That's right, it's sausage fest. That inane tradition I insist on keeping alive despite the fact that probably no one reads it. Actually I have stat counter now you little devils and I know that a lot of you do! Which continually surprises me. In any event, to visit past sausages click here (2010) and here (2009) and here (2008) and here here (2007). Well without further adieu, let us begin with this years Fiesta De La Sausage! Enjoy!
John Cameron Mitchell!

Look at this adorable face. I want to eat it.

I can quite honestly tell you that if I had been at the above concert and seen that performance I would have died or fainted or been sobbing so uncontrollably that people would have thought it was 1964 and I was watching the Beatles. That is how much this clip blows my mind. In fact as I was watching it just now it made me cry again. It gets wacky ridiculous at the two minuet mark.

This year's first honorary sausage goes to John Cameron Mitchell. A true story: I don't get star struck, I get goofy or excited if I see a sort of famousy person I really admire- I usually just make a fool out of myself and say something embarrassing, but I very rarely am so struck by someone, so afraid of them based solely on who they are as an artist that I tremble with fear at ever having to meet them. John Cameron Mitchell is one of the few I feel this way about. Last year at Workspace he came to an event and I was so frightened of him that I just left. Daniel laughed and tried to get me to talk to Mr. Mitchel but it was all too much and I got very serious and ran away, I think in turn sort of freaking or weirding Daniel out. Anyway, JCM's voice is one of the most heavenly sounds on earth- I could listen to it every day, it's powerful and confident yet reassuring and warm- and Hedwig is one of the most beautiful films I have ever seen. I sat in the theatre and balled my eyes out. I thought, if there's a man out there that can write this most thoughtful story about the universal human condition then art has a purpose. Dork! Party of me, it's true, but really this retired theatre nerd misfit fell in love. Truly, honestly, I feel sort of weird even making him a sausage. He is such a truly beautiful human. Check out my 'poopy day' link in the blogroll. Another true story: I once took a package to Cyndi Lauper at her home in Los Feliz and I couldn't look her in the eyes.

Donald Glover!

Donald Glover is liquid sexy. Actually he's the holy trifecta: smart, supper funny and hot. He was a writer on the three funniest seasons of 30 Rock and won an Emmy for the Funcooker episode. He left the show though to do Community. Maybe the best show on TV. If you haven't seen it yet all I have to say is this: Paintball. Watch it and you shall understand. Anyway, the entire cast is littered with the best kind of sexy beasts; the ones with brains and timing. It already stars former sausage and patron saint and protector of the blog, Chevy Chase and our very next sausage who you will be introduced to shortly below. Here's to Donald Glover!

This interview was done right before he started shooting Community and was still just a network writer NYU funny guy nerd. ps, Those dudes were always so annoying and at the Grey Dog coffee shop hogging up all the tables and talking about how they almost got into Yale and where they were going to do standup that weekend and gossiping about Conan O Brian like they knew him. Or old SNL's or how Chris Parnell is underrated or some shiz. They are probably in my estimation the New York equivalent of the Los Angeles struggling actor.

Sweet Delicious Joel Mchale!

I first fell in love with Joel Mchale while I was a nanny in New York around 2005. Often I would get called to evening babysit which basically consisted of eating other people's food and watching their cable on their nice expensive couches. It was on one of these nights that I first discovered The Soup, Mankini, Lou the chihuahua and Clip of the Week. Joel Mchale continues to be one of the sexiest things on two legs and makes each episode of the Soup and now Community, the funniest things on earth. He's almost been a sausage the past two years but always was pushed out by someone else at the last minute. Not this year, this year Joel, your sausage shall shine.

Handsome, stoic Gordon Mcrae!

I've been thinking about Gordon Mcrae a lot lately. One of the characters in my novel is sort of based on him- in part, him the actor in Hollywood, and him his characters in his Rodger's and Hammerstein movies.
Anyway, I always felt there was something kind and understated about him. His voice is also up there with some of my favorite male voices- I was a musical theatre major at my art high school- in the 90's btw and I do not like Glee, so don't ask- Anyway, when I was little my mom was weird and instead of letting me watch current cartoons like a normal kid she bought the entire Rodger's and Hammerstein collection, old 1950's Disney Mickey Mouse cartoons and Little Lulu's and Felix The Cat cartoons. So I blame her mostly for making me an old timey weirdo. Anyway, Gordon was one of my first little kid crushes. Look at his face. Doesn't his face just look warm?

Literary sausages! These two men have had the most influence on my novel aside from Margaret Atwood. I've reread their classics in the last two months trying to dig inside their brains.
Henry David Thoreau

"I have heard of a man lost in the woods and dying of famine and exhaustion at the foot of a tree, whose loneliness was relieved by the grotesque visions with which, owing to bodily weakness, his diseased imagination surrounded him, and which he believed to be real. So also, owing to bodily and mental health and strength, we may be continually cheered by a like but more normal and natural society, and come to know that we are never alone."
The most philosophical of sausages.

Nathanael West!
The greatest novel ever written about Hollywood:
\

Getting serious with an actor on set. I can't decide what's cooler about Nathanael West, the persistent myth that he died in a car crash on his way to his good friend F. Scott Fitzgerald's funeral- he did not, he died a few days earlier but it's such a great Hollywood rumor- that he wrote for Hollywood during that brief but splendid period when other writers such as William Faulkner, Fitzgerald and James M. Cain worked there, or that he was a terrific dandy AND slob. I don't know. I love Nathanael West.

Cary Fukunaga!!!!!!

Sweet Jebus this man is hot. He's a writer and a director and if you haven't seen the Jane Eyre that came out in 2011 SEE IT! It's the best Jane Eyre ever made and stays true to the book, capturing all the gothic greatness that earlier versions didn't convey. Also his first film Sin Nombre was about Mexican immigrant gang members. Can you say swoon? SO IN LOVE.

this intervierer is pretty dense but he looks hot.

Adorable Diego Luna!
Homeboy is just cute. And I love his movies. Milk, Y Tu Mama Tambien, Mister Lonely.

And rounding out this years sausages, who better than the entire Clash!? You know what guys? I too am so bored with the USA.

Network Interruption

2011-07-31T20:27:00.000-07:00

I will be bz for the next few weeks and blogging erratically. I will be back in full force at the end of the month with the 2011 winners of this years Sausage Fest. In the meantime, warm your heart to this little ditty here.
Namaste.

Author Photo

2011-07-28T10:15:00.001-07:00

seriously, isn't this such a good author photo? all you need to know about katzban is in this pic. now someone, publish his book!
Also, if you would like to follow the poetic adventures of katzban, you need only click here.

The Bluest Eye

2011-07-24T02:18:00.000-07:00

Who said you could talk so much?

Bad Habits

2011-07-18T09:51:00.000-07:00

Now instead of stealing clothes from my workplaces in elaborate trash bag involved schemes and getting stoned all day by the dumpsters behind my various stores of work, biting my nails so I could go out at night and forget whatever it is I did once I got there, I now spend my days doing yoga, trying Pilate's, riding my bike by the river, taking long walks only to come home and eat a giant massive burrito the size of my head and slowly eat an entire plate of sage cornbread. It seems I am never able to just, chill, without a bit of the ol' self descructo rearing it's ugly head. I'm also fond of staring off into space thinking about all the things I should be doing and then instead laying on my back and listening to songs play on youtube. I need to get back to work. My idle mind is a lazy, hungry, money spending, exercise obsessing, too old for these shenanigans place.
In other words, I'm fine, how are you?
In the meantime, have you heard TuNe YaRds, yet? They are INSANE amazing. I'm posting them doing BIzness live and not the music video because watching her bust out those sounds from such rudimentary non fancy computer type looking instruments is awesome.
On a side note, it's been awesome having Busy in town. Things that have happened to her lately that don't happen to normal people: Sitting in the audience of a movie you've never heard of and hearing one of your songs used, or try this one: a teenage boy contestant on So You Think You Can Dance, uses one of your songs to dance to. The actual performance can't be embedded, but here he is doing it at some talent show, the actual video is on youtube. This kid is amazing, no? Ah, to be alive in the modern age.

And for good measure, the real thing live:

Axe To Grind: Erika Anderson and Her Stratocaster Go Solo

2011-07-14T15:52:00.000-07:00

Six months after writing this piece and searching endlessly to give it a good home I realized today, that duh, to despair is foolish, it's proper place was here the entire time, where I had editorial control. Whew! That's one long sentence! Enjoy.

Axe to Grind: Erika Anderson and her Stratocaster go solo

With a bowl cut of bleached blond hair, piercing green eyes and standing six feet tall, the word demure doesn’t come to mind when describing South Dakota native Erika Anderson, lead singer of the now defunct drone trio, Gowns. Her blog, cameouttanowhere.com, cites her as a direct descendent of Erik Blood-Axe, “the ruthless Viking warrior.” If you are familiar with Anderson’s technique: guitar destroyer, this makes perfect sense.
Gowns quietly gathered acclaim from the beginning, Pitchfork described them as “one of the most jaw-dropping live bands on the American DIY underground circuit.” And if that weren’t enough, “If you never saw them live, commence to kicking yourself.” The band consisted of Anderson, former Mai Shi member, Ezra Buchla and Corey Fogel, a regular in the Los Angeles, Machine Project gallery folk scene. In 2007 they released their only album, Red State, a searing critique of post 9/11 America, the cover featuring a rendering of a Manowar jellyfish. The album attracted the attention of the blogosphere but even as they garnered cult status they remained a mysterious outfit, eventually breaking up onstage last February in what could be described as too band blowup perfect to be real. “That final show was crazy,” says, Anderson, who after the breakup finally hunkered down in her Oakland apartment where she had been making music and commuting to Los Angeles from on a regular basis since the mid 2000’s. “I haven’t thought about it too much since it happened but I just remember it sounding awful. We had just played two really great shows. It was my birthday and I think I just said something like, ‘It’s my birthday, sorry,’ and walked off. We all have really strong personalities and those guys are so talented and just focused and good at what they do, but everything we did was real, it was up front. That was the thing with us; we could never phone it in. In a way we needed the fear of God to make it come alive. It makes sense that that’s how it happened. I had some fears about stepping out and taking it pro, but like with Red State, it was important to me that I say something. So when I got a phone call from this woman a week after we broke up saying, “I saw you play three years ago, you blew me away, have you ever thought of going solo? I kind of went, ‘actually…’”

With the May 10th release of her debut album, Past Life Martyred Saints under the moniker EMA, Anderson is eager to tackle issues she couldn’t address as a member of a democracy. “A lot of this album is about homesteading, about my Norwegian ancestors coming to America and just going crazy in the middle of the prairie, how my grandpa was in world war two and my mother worked all the time so we could get by and about me moving to California and trying to make my way. I think about that, has my mother worked this hard so I can be a musician?”
Anderson resists using condescending language when discussing the Midwest and takes personal offense to people like Sarah Palin who have turned ‘folksy’ speak into a sign of authenticity. “It’s such a cop out and is so insulting to the people who live there. It completely undermines their complexity as people.”
If Anderson’s lyrics in Gowns reflected a political, and societal response to coping in America, then her new work speaks to music making itself and the power it holds over those who not just create it, but consume it as well. “I got really into the idea of production. The song Butterfly Knife is the first thing I ever mixed on my own and that’s why it sounds crazy. Eventually I had someone come in and explain the things I could and couldn’t do when mixing a song and now I know. Being in charge of your music is powerful. It’s not enough for girls to pick up instruments, they need to pick up Power Tools and not be afraid.”
Waiting for Anderson inevitably will come the endless questions about holding a guitar beneath her breasts. “I don’t mind being asked about my gender, it’s the way I’m asked about it that bothers me. It’s always brought up like, ‘oh, look how good she can play. Or, ‘isn’t that special she’s a girl who plays guitar.’ I want to talk about it, but I wish people would talk about it in a real honest way. I’m terrified to say what I’m about to, but ladies, why aren’t you killing it? I don’t know if girls don’t feel comfortable onstage because there are so few things to emulate? Boys think, ‘I want to be like him and jump around.’ Girls I think realize that as soon as you get onstage people are looking at you, and think, ‘oh, be sexy’ because that’s what you see everywhere, women being sexy, even Blondie, is, I don’t know, ‘hot.’ They don’t seem confident even when they’re good and girls have to be the ones to change it. So I don’t mind talking about it because the way I play isn’t that difficult, tons of girls are better than me. The hard part is the entitlement. Women don’t want to be rude and take up space and I deserve to take up the whole stage. Let’s talk about that. I’ll talk about it forever.”
Anderson who went on tour opening for Throbbing Gristle last summer remembers the guy who booked her for the tour, “I’ve never told anyone this but he was like, ‘I thought you were just going to have a little electronic set and use your voice.’ I think a lot of times my rebelliousness gets me into trouble, because I went out there and was like, I’m going to play a twenty-five minute rock in roll destruction song for these industrial heads. And the guy who booked me was really taken aback. I played louder, longer and took up the stage, I was like, I’m going to rip it up man. Afterwards though people were blown away, they loved it!”
Watching Anderson tear apart a guitar leads one to wonder the last if ever time they saw a woman play the way she dives into her work. “I’m always worried that I’m going to be discredited and I don’t even want to deal with it. I think part of that is because of where I grew up. In high school my band was called Man Hater, I cringed at the name, but we were the only band with a girl in it. I always put it up front, made it so big and said the worst thing possible before they could. I mean, man hater, what can you call someone after that? It was like, you’re not going to fuck with me. Like with Gowns, the boys had less to prove, I not only had more to prove, I have something else to prove. Maybe that’s why I push myself so hard.”

Ghosts on the Prairie

2011-07-11T10:33:00.000-07:00

photo by Marianne Williams.
Emily is going to be at the Walker Art Center of Minneapolis performing her greatness. Past performers have included Laurie Anderson and Patti Smith.

Hot As Fudge

2011-07-06T13:42:00.000-07:00

I've been a lazy blogger. Apologies. It's hot and I've been outside and then sick and then busy, Here is a smogasborg of the past few weeks.
4th of July with Biz in Lincoln Heights. The city was poppin. It was trancelike.

I made my first cake ever! Bun in the Sun, the theme of Nick's Palm Springs b-day getaway.

Happy Bautismo Bitrthday, Athena!

2011-06-24T19:39:00.000-07:00

Athena is essentially the funniest person alive. She is comedy central, they just can't pay her enough so she left. That's why it sucks now. Except for John Stewart but that's because Athena's sideways brain writes his jokes. And boobly bah! New York weeps for this creatures absence every night. As do all who have left her presence, forever yearning for her sunny light. I love you womyn. You slithereen, you.

Business Cat

2011-06-22T19:40:00.000-07:00

Read this amazing article by Bree Mckenna from Tacocat while I commence to dunking my head in a bucket called shame. Damn you Lady Gaga! Why did I bite? I held out for soooo long. Why did I bite?
click here to read it.

Amendment to an Amendment

2011-06-20T16:50:00.000-07:00

After much thought I have decided to remove the mean and nasty blog post I wrote about Lady GaGa. It was unlike me to directly dis an artist just because I don't like her. That's not my style and I hear that other people do indeed get the type of things she offers as being empowering and motivational. So who am I to knock that? Especially when there are so many other way more morally horrendous musicians out there that I never blink an eye at. I guess what it comes down to is that I'm not a fan. I have my reasons and that's fine. I don't like her music at all and that should really be the main reason, as a music critic that I don't like her. So instead I will post these two finely crafted videos about her and Kanye that perfectly sum up my feelings. I will however keep the below videos in the post. In case you were wondering what I think is really badass.
You wanna watch some cool shit? Watch this:

Love To A Thug

2011-06-15T23:39:00.000-07:00

Nick's in NY and I miss him. This is my own personal blog so if I want to post dorky lovey dovey photos of my boyfriend mere hours after posting an Ellen Willis review, that is my prerogative.
But really, sorry for being gross.

an old one. i will call this one, "eww, don't."

a medium one. i will call this one, "dork face, don't you see me fucking recoiling?"

a now one. this one i will call "under the influence of your axe deodorant." seriously, that axe stuff is not so bad.

This one is my favorite.
Clearly we excel at picture taking.

Now I Lay Thee Down to Sleep

2011-06-15T13:41:00.000-07:00

There comes a time in the life of every writer when they need to let go and set a piece free. In the upcoming weeks I will post pieces written in the last six months that due to one reason or another, could not find homes out in the big bad world. But that is fine with me. The last time I posted something for that reason it turned out pretty alright, ahem, Best Music Writing 2010. So here we go, first up is my review of the Ellen Willis anthology Out of the Vinyl Deeps. An ode to my hero, the great Ellen Willis. Enjoy.

Out of the Vinyl Deeps, Ellen Willis Rock Music

The collected work of Chuck Klosterman, early 2000’s editor of Spin magazine and author of such notable essays as Sulking with Lisa Loeb On Ice Planet Hoth, pre dates this collection of Ellen Willis’ work, Out of the Vinyl Deeps, Ellen Willis Rock Music, by five years. In some ways this bit of information is the greatest unintentional tribute to her work; that Willis indeed had cause and reason to shout from rafters that women weren’t being heard. Willis of course is the pioneering rock critic who went on to shape any music criticism written in the past thirty years, whether the authors of this legacy are aware of that or not. She was the first pop music critic for the New Yorker and as Sasha Frere Jones, who later went on to hold the same position, notes in his superb introduction to the book, it’s longest running pop music crit occupant. By the mid eighties though Willis’ work as a music critic had largely been forgotten, as she turned her razor sharp eye to larger more personal battles: sexual feminist freedom, international women’s rights and a myriad of other social and political issues she saw standing in the way of gender equality.
To female critics of any pop genre however, the work of women like Willis’, Pauline Kael, Jaan Uhelszki, plus a handful of other notable writers, has never been forgotten, in fact her flame has stood as a roadmap for almost any practicing critic of the so called fairer sex. It is fitting then as Jason Gross notes in his recent flavorpill post, 33 Women Music Critics You Need to Read, that a sea change might be afoot. With the release Out of the Vinyl Deeps, Willis’ writing is finally receiving the most obvious of honors, a long overdue collection of her work, and with it new discussion about what it means to be and who gets to be a critic.
The writing itself is an astonishing mix of political and artistic criticism that stands up frighteningly well in contrast with many of her male peers. Dylan, the 1967 essay from Cheetah magazine that got Willis the New Yorker gig, is perhaps her most enduring and famous piece. Here she weaves a shrewd narrative around persona and identity, calling Dylan out for his artifice, without ever stooping to name-calling. Highlighted is Dylan’s childlike obsession with upsetting and confusing his fan base. In many ways Willis is a skilled lawyer, spinning backhanded compliments that echo some of Oscar Wilde’s finest work:

“Dylan has self-consciously explored the possibilities of mass communication just as the pop artists explored the possibilities of mass production. In the same sense that pop art is about commodities, Dylan’s art is about celebrity.”

The brilliance of Willis’ is that the above statement could just as easily be applied to the ongoing debate about Lady GaGa’s merit as an artist, and just as swiftly cut GaGa down at the knees, speaking in terms of artist as provocateur, artist as thief. Willis saw the connection between Warhol and Dylan, Jasper Johns and Jim Morrison. Artist was no longer artist, artist was an act and that act was the real truth. The ‘real’ Dylan, Robert Allen Zimmerman, whoever that might be was the artifice, the Dylan of Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, hopped trains and grew up at the foot of an old radio listening Woody Guthrie, even if the ‘real’ Dylan never saw a train car in his entire life or heard Guthrie till he reached his mid teens. That was not the Dylan of the world and that Dylan was useless to his art. The piece ends with a tip of the hat and mutual appreciation and respect for his performance both as a musician and artist. Like two cowboy outlaws passing peacefully in the street, Willis doesn’t walk away without acknowledging to the reader and Dylan himself, that she knows what he’s up to and that she’s allowing him to pass.
This is not to say that Dylan or great artists like him were beholden to Willis’ academic approval but only that her essays were some of the earliest works in which pop music was held to a higher standard. These criticisms of course were Willis’ ultimate love offerings to rock n roll: Her nascent ability to respect the music enough to take it seriously. It was her way of honoring its power.
Some of the artists lucky enough to be the beneficiaries of Willis’ love were Lou Reed, The Beatles, Elvis, and Creedance Clearwater. Reading these pieces one can’t help but wonder if she secretly relished this opportunity as a woman to dissect sacred cows. Her work never dealt in animus however, if anything, like Kale before her Willis’ writing offers the upmost respect to her subjects. Only that she takes men to task in ways that other male critics either did not notice or deem necessary. In the Rolling Stones essay, Sympathy for the Stones in which she acknowledges Mick Jagger’s sexuality not as a boyish immature affect but rather as a deep intrinsic part of who he was as a creative, she subtly hints that Jagger’s sexuality shouldn’t be toned down, but that other artists, possibly of the female variety, should be encouraged to emulate without repercussion. It is essays like this that laid the groundwork for modern pop feminist interpretation and analytical introspection.
If Dylan was the essay that put her on the map, then it is Janis Joplin that defined her as a music critic. It is a piece of writing not just loving in its appraisal of Janis as a fellow trailblazer but also interweaves Willis’ own story of self acceptance. A beautiful chunk of writing it must be read to be appreciated. As a template for analytical memoir and new journalism it is flawless, and in 2006 when Willis died of lung cancer, Salon ultimately chose it as the piece to eulogize her death.
It is a shame that Willis couldn’t live to see this collection come to light, but in many ways she had moved beyond music criticism years earlier on her own. When she passed she was an internationally recognized feminist and radical politico. The staffs she carried all pointed in the same direction: human equality, personal autonomy and freedom. Whether through the celebration of an album or the destruction of an absurd and sexist law, it was all the same to Willis, and perhaps she saw more than anyone that the space between the two was much smaller than we’d like to believe.

Nikki Darling

Here ye, Here ye!

2011-06-12T12:58:00.001-07:00

Jennifer Leopard is my new band crush.

A consistent fave. I love Katy's voice, it's like butter, and I especially love her sense of humor which is always present in her vids.

You know, I've always been a big supporter of Peaches as a person in the world and of her project. Peaches gets two thumbs up from me, however, I've never actually been a fan of Peaches actual music. A deal breaker for some, I know, but I'm advertising a bigger battle here so, anyway, this new Peaches song, Mud, is amazing. Is it because it doesn't sound at all like old Peaches? I don't know, but if this is the new direction she's going in, well, I endorse this. This video was also directed by the great Vice Cooler. What can't that guy do? I want to commission him to direct a video of me reading my book. I have musician envy.

Are you sick of this song yet? Surprisingly I'm not. I <3 Adele.

Sure, I'm down. Why not? I dig the basic bitches refrain.

Homeless Farts

2011-06-10T14:54:00.000-07:00

Last Bridesmaids thing, promise.

Shaque D'Amour

2011-06-08T16:13:00.000-07:00

Swaddled in love, thats how I feel. Love and awesomeness. Erika played at the Echo and it was a fiery ball of red hot. It's awesome to watch your friends get to do the thing they love because they really shine. It's so rad to see people dig her. I mean, if you haven't bought Past Life Martyred Saints, hop to it. It's fucking blistering greatness. And if you have a chance to see her live, don't hesitate. Talent, it's a gift.
My mom was in town for my birthday and that was so lovely. We went to the arboretum and saw peacock babies and then home depot and bought flowers which she helped me plant. Then I had a wonderful potluck full of friends and dogs and good food. I couldn't have asked for a better afternoon. And then Nick on my actual birthday took me to Disneyland and my heart almost exploded from happiness. That is until we closed the evening with potato tacos at Al Atacor. The next day Heather, Jacqui and I all went to see Cathy DJ at the Smell for a riot grrl/zine/Crass fest.
I could sleep for a hundred years.

The Boy Next Door

2011-06-01T16:35:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I saw Bridesmaids in the theatre twice it's so fucking funny. I can't even begin to describe the amount I cried from laughing so hard. Kristin Wiig and Melissa Mccarthy are my new Tina Fey and Amy Pohler. Not that I don't still LOVE T Pain and Amy Dawg, and I'm sure those two lovely ladies are super psyched that other funny women are getting the spotlight.
Here's an interview with Melissa conducted by the amazing Manny the movie guy who ps, is also AWESOME squared.

If you don't know about Manny click here for pure joy and happiness. Seriously, the fact that Manny is out there interviewing Melissa about her fucking kickass role in a female driven comedy makes my heart sing. Also, Rebel Wilson who plays Kristen's crazy ass roommate also sort of steals the movie. Everyone steals the movie! Don Draper and Kathy Najimy the nun from Sister Act steal the movie. The chick from the office and the other chick from Reno 911 and the chick who was the only person in Get Him To the stupid Greek that I didn't hate, steal the movie.
ANYWAY. I've been feeling rather girl powery lately. One of my bestest friends Alex click here, here, here and here from college came into town for work and it was a most magical brief encounter. I am already missing her beauty and big laugh and covered hand smirk and devious side chuckle. We did what girlfriends do, we got fish and chips, went to a bar- I had a mocktail, but the sentiment was the same- did face masks, drank rose tea and watched South Park, reminiscing the entire time about past episodes we watched together when we were neighbors back in Brooklyn, smoking cigarettes nearing morning, switching to Bev Hills 90210 while her boyfriend James banged on weird drums and keyboards in his music room waiting for our coven of two to disperse. Casa Bonita, Butters, Clyde Frog and so many others.

When I first met Alex we were both at Lang, I was interested in creative writing and feminism and she was interested in public health for women and children and also, feminism. The first time Alex remembers seeing me was at orientation, she says I had bangs. This is true, I did. And also that I talked about being older than everyone and that she wanted to talk to me because she had also lived on her own and was a tad older. We were 20 and 22, respectively. Grandmas, I know. I remember secretly following Alex down the subway to get to Times Square where we had both signed up for modern dance class. I didn't know how to take the train and she was in a light purple leotard and jeans and her hair was loose and she pulled it into a bun while walking down the steps- our school didn't have a traditional campus- I sat at the very far end of the subway car and she was holding onto the pole and I slipped off the train when she did and kept a few feet behind. I had no idea where I was going. When we got there we walked up a long flight of stairs in an old off Broadway dance rehearsal studio. The floors were waxed and wood and it had been at least three years since I had danced or worn dance clothes and it felt so good to be in front of those long mirrors again and to move my body and I watched her move her arms around and she had no idea I was watching. It was an exciting time.
Alex works now for Maila Mills, the most amazing bathing suit designer ever. She makes suits for real bodies and I was lucky enough to be asked to model for her. Malia is a wonderful smart chic rad lady feminist cancer survivor Hilary Clinton supporter positive fashion force. Seriously, I got a suit and is DIVINE. Click here to see her awesomeness.
And lastly, and perhaps most excitingly, two weeks ago I gathered at Masa in Echo park with an army of feminist music critics. It was in honor of many things, solidarity, Ellen Willis, and the east coast one that happened a couple weeks before ours. Just a few of the awesome women in attendance were the ladies who run the LA Rock Girls Camp and Jessica Hundley. It felt powerful and special and all sorts of gooey good feelings swelled up inside me. Especially since some twenty odd years earlier, Ellen Willis, my college mentor Ann Snitow and a group of other awesome ladies gathered together on the cover of New York Times Magazine to celebrate their huge strides for women back then. They laid the bricks for us now, and great women laid the bricks before them. I feel so blessed to be a woman.

Daiana taking our group shot.

Solvej!

Beautiful Margaret! And Evelyn McDonnnel who was just picked to be in Best Music Writing 2011!

The east coast photo. Hey, it's the terrific Ann Powers!

And lastly, for good measure, two of my favorite ladies, Biz and Alice. Shining examples of the fiery flame of feminism. Also, also, a special shoutout congratulations to Jhopps for inclusion in BMW 2011. She's tied with Christgua!

FIVE POINTS!

2011-05-27T11:27:00.000-07:00

Please join the beautiful Kate Wolf and I for the final Five Points of the season. Woot! Let's go out with a bang!

Sister Christian

2011-05-20T19:05:00.000-07:00

People always ask, Nicole, why are you so cool?- no one's ever asked me this- and I say- I never say this because I've never been asked- because I have an older sister. A significantly older sister- not THAT much older but we spent high school in different decades- I am the young person in an older family- it was strange in high school to be friends with people who were the oldest person in a young family. A sister who dressed me up as Siouxsie Sioux, left me standing outside her blue 70's mustang in a Sacramento mall parking lot when I complained that I didn't want to wait in the car, who slept in while babysitting me forgetting-or not caring- that I was too short to reach food in the cupboards- I constructed elaborate chair sculptures, showed me how to feather my hair, then tease it, then rat it, then blow it out. When i was six she had short cropped to the face hair and the coolest fucking rat tail I've ever seen. I thought she was the most beautiful woman alive- I still do-and coveted her clothes and music, even when she would catch me in her room tying her tye dyed silk scarves around my head like a Russian house wife, and she would shriek at me to not 'touch my fucking stuff!' My sister was an artist and into fashion and a goth, then a punk, then an androgynous sexy waif. My mom has amazing photos of her. But here are a few. I'm also pretty sure she hates Night Ranger.

Her hair metal wedding from 1989. My ex brother in law who's still sort of like my brother even though he and my sister are remarrying this year- wore all leather and had a Slash looking top hat. They were high school sweethearts, junior high school best friends. They are still best friends and he is my moms other kid pretty much.

Amazing photo collage she made of herself. She was also the first weirdo I ever knew.

Anna Banana today. This is seriously the tip of the amazing photo iceberg of my sister. She has so many fucking awesome styles caught on film, but alas these are but the few I have on my computer. My mom has an archive f 80's/90's gems. She was so goddamn cool.

Blonde on Blonde

2011-05-17T12:41:00.000-07:00

Golden suns and valhalla nights.

via Rachel

Jennifer Egan 1977.

via Jessica

Take What's Yours

2011-05-09T22:26:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I get sucked into these dark holes of sadness and in this weird gross way it's cleansing. It reminds me of all the shit that is okay in my life and to not be such a whiny brat. I spent a good deal of this evening reading about Ann the elephant and Patrick the dog. If you don't know who they are, you can just google those phrases and believe me, you will find out. Their stories are gross and sad and don't involve cheezeburgers. Just a warning. OR you can take my word for it and believe me when I tell you that you are blessed. Blessed to be the dominant species, have opposable thumbs, autonomy. Blessed to be able to depend on yourself, it sort of makes me feel like an asshole for not getting more done on my own. The victim card, I plays it sometimes.
ANYWAY a nice getaway from all of that is to just run in the opposite direction and get lost in your own vanity, take refuge in materialism. Oh pepsi cola, oh google, oh apple, oh America. I'm talking to the universe on this one. My birthday is less than a month away, galaxies, boyfriend, friends, distant admirers, these are the things i crave.
But first, an anonymous christmas list fallen from the pocket of a rich, whipped man found on the DC train by a stranger, and then promptly sent to Gawker for collective ridicule.

Birthday Galaxy Wish List:
Trip to Disneyland
New black jeans
Bike rack for the top of my car
A yoga membership
Paid visits to the vet for each of my cats
A crab dinner at Newport Seafood
An early morning trip the flower mart
A gift certificate to Skylight
Hand made mix tapes
Art made by my artist friends
A dalmatian from a rescue
A certificate to Amoeba
A visit to Riad Maison Bleue in Fes- seriously, google the place, it's insane.
A trip to Mexico City
A massage
A pedicure.
And now for the racist portion of our show, this classic scene from Dumbo, the film that both terrified, confused and broke my heart all at the same time. This movie is single handily responsible for some sort of emotional break that occurred during my childhood and in some backwards messed up way, responsible for a good portion of my compassion. Oh if those crows could fly away from those Topsy, Uncle Tom stereotypes and if only elephants really could fly, far away from our ideas and empty pockets, away from our greed and callousness. Away from us altogether so that they may inherent the earth the way we always should have but never could.

Hang Your Hat

2011-05-05T00:28:00.000-07:00

This month marks three years back in Los Angeles and three years in my little house. In that time I have completed my masters in critical studies, written for the LA Weekly and now the LA Times, made terrific life long friends, rediscovered my home through adult eyes and fallen in love with a total great zero douchebag dude. Not bad for three little years that seem to have flown by, if I don't say so my self. I am cat mom to three terrific hairy bad boys who leave their fur in my mouth and find their way onto the clothes of the babies I watch. It feels good to be good.

Golden Years

2011-05-02T17:39:00.000-07:00

Osama Bin Laden is dead. Yay? I don't know, is that how I should feel? I feel sad. I feel angry. I feel angry that I was born into a culture of war, that war effects us on a daily basis. Seeps into the core of our anatomy until we can no longer separate it from our organic selves. The past ten years we have been at war. Since the planes hit, we have been living in a state of trauma. During the nineties we were at war. I was born in 1980, five years after the end of Vietnam. My father served in Vietnam and this is not usually the shit I get into on my blog, but every living male in my family over the age of thirty, on both sides, has served in a war. My grandfathers all served in war. Vietnam irreparably changed and hurt my father. Not a day goes by that he doesn't think about what happened not just to him, the country, the people of Vietnam and to his friends. At my grandfathers funeral they hung a photo of his WW11 platoon. Of the 50 odd men standing in the photo, he was one of two to return. My same grandfathers nephew committed suicide in 1976, after he returned from War. There is nothing romantic, valiant or beautiful about war. It is an ugly way to die, it is an ugly way to bring death. It hurts everyone involved and for the most part, much of its has been unnecessary. Watching these Tea Party racist assholes spout bullshit about going back to ' the way things used to be, old American values' makes me wonder what old American values do you speak of? What golden age have you hallucinated yourself into, in order to go on?

Patriot Games

2011-04-27T18:06:00.000-07:00

It's like a storm after a long draught! Three days, three posts! I got my hair cut. That's it. An excuse to post gratuitous photos of myself. No but really, I like this cut quite a bit. Yoko however, is not amused by my see through shenanigans.

Also

2011-04-26T22:51:00.000-07:00

I have been watching this video nonstop for the past 12 hours. Ugggh. I just want to be inside of it. So good.

Dark Allies - Light Asylum from Grant Worth on Vimeo.

Plight of the Irish aka I Want More

2011-04-26T21:15:00.000-07:00

It's funny, sometimes I just want to start over and make a brand new me from scratch with no hang ups or setbacks or interesting quirks. I want to smoke weed like no bodies business and for the first time in the five years since I last smoked weed I don't give a shit anymore and am going to quit fooling myself into believing it's a big deal if I do. I know its not, so why spend so much fucking energy trying to convince a world that doesn't care - aka i care- that it is? I made a honey bong the other day, not for me, for a friend and this friend smoked weed in my living room and I politely declined and it was fine and no big deal but when I came back from taking this friend wherever I took them I found myself unfolding the tinfoil and looking for scraps. Now maybe that's a bad sign but really what it tells me is that I'm thirty goddamn almost one years old- next month thank you very much- and in the past I have done so many things to prove to the world that I really am broken, and I really need help, exaggerating circumstances, lying to teachers, laying down yarns, and really for what? A shoulder to cry on?
But this isn't about weed because I'm not going to smoke weed because I'm too poor and too lazy and because this is about me just loosening the fuck up and maybe I do want to go sit in silence in the desert with strangers and meditate for 10 days and thats alright. Maybe I'm susceptible to cults and fads and eat too much chocolate and talk in baby talk to my cats and it's no ones goddamn business but my own. And I'm saying that to me, not you, because you probably never cared in the first place how I talked to my cats.
Just show me Jesus, on this good day after your great return, show me how to be because I'm doing it wrong.

An excerpt:

12. There is a product on the market called the MOMET Plus. It measures moisture in houseplants, specifically orchids, to help them grow. More famously, MOMET is an acronym for the Ministry of Mines Environment Tourism in Zimbabwe, a company that regulates sound pollution from explosions.

13. Zimbabwe is a place that makes me feel ashamed to have grief, a place where my suffering seems insignificant and self-indulgent. People say, “but it’s all relative,” but I don’t think that’s true. I think that’s an excuse we use to do nothing and still feel bad and then I think, maybe I don’t hate women after all, maybe I still just hate men. But I never hated you. Perhaps we can play the Sound of Silence so loud it cancels out the sound of exploding mines and the MOMET would no longer be needed. Perhaps if I hold a piece of sky colored paper to the sky it would no longer be blue but invisible; would that piece of paper be the loudest thing on earth? Can it transform? Maggie, you asked, in the dark is a blue couch blue?

There is an Art Sale at workspace this Sunday , it's a fundraiser for the gallery. Five Points is having an amazing reading. Come, buy art, listen, be merry. click here for more info

Here are some of the beautiful things that are going to be on sale. Artist names and titles can be found by clicking the link. I will be making two mix tapes that are being sold as a pair. They are hand made in my home, on my living room floor on the same tape deck I've had since high school. Each one comes with a track list, a poem and a collage insert. They are 40 bones.

Physical Graffiti

2011-04-25T13:14:00.000-07:00

So obviously I haven't posted in awhile. I spent most of the month applying to a residency and then also deciding to start my PHD application process in the for real. I signed up for a kaplan class and have been doing that. Ladies and gents, believe you me, it is not my intention to be a 31 year old hand to mouth nanny forever, I'd one day like to be able to buy a home, do yoga without feeling guilty, go on vacays and whatnot. Oh PHD, I look to you know to show me the way.
Anyway, lovely, beautiful Rachel was here visiting on a story assignment. I will post the finished product when it's done but until then I don't want to blow up her big piece. It's going to be epic when it's done though.

a shrimp ceviche feast!

Cry Little Sister

2011-04-05T18:16:00.000-07:00

Nick and I went on an epic road trip adventure. A mini forever getaway that didn't actually last forever, but should have. Stops in Santa Cruz and San Simeon, final destination San Fran with HeeHaw and Adam. Oh sweet Virginia, I will be back soon.

We made it to Santa Carla but these guys were on vacation in LA! What are the chances? Blerg! As Liz Lemon would say. Oh well, we'll kick it with them next time we visit.

We got the obligatory San Francisco burrito and I begrudgingly admit that it was really fucking good.

Sleepy feets.
Next stop, Europe!

Annoyance 2.0

2011-03-29T14:03:00.001-07:00

the world is full of sentimental idiots and cold heartless hate, where are the middle of the road sensibles? I hate my computer.
Speedo feels me.

Past Life Martyred Saints

2011-03-25T21:57:00.000-07:00

Quite simply the best musician making music right now. Feminist pop locker down and dirty serve it to you straight musical phenom. Unbelievable. This shit is off the hook. I just can't even. Her brain is supersized.

Shine On You Crazy Diamond

2011-03-23T09:11:00.000-07:00

RIP Elizabeth

Her son Michael Wielding said it best:
"My Mother was an extraordinary woman who lived life to the fullest, with great passion, humor, and love. Though her loss is devastating to those of us who held her so close and so dear, we will always be inspired by her enduring contribution to our world. Her remarkable body of work in film, her ongoing success as a businesswoman, and her brave and relentless advocacy in the fight against HIV/AIDS, all make us all incredibly proud of what she accomplished. We know, quite simply, that the world is a better place for Mom having lived in it. Her legacy will never fade, her spirit will always be with us, and her love will live forever in our hearts."
Click here and here to read AMFAR and the Elizabeth Taylor Aids Foundations touching tributes. The ETAF is asking fans who wish to honor her memory to consider making a small donation to the charity.
And finally, not to be forgotten was her tremendous talent. Beautiful Elizabeth Taylor. In high school I slept beneath her pictures. Her picture hangs beside me in my office now, reminding me of all the wonderful things people can do when love, kindness, compassion and passion are your guide.

People of Paper

2011-03-20T16:07:00.000-07:00

SGV ME

2011-03-15T22:32:00.000-07:00

Basically. Love and Rockets and Lords of Acid. Dim Sum, Orange Bang, 7-11, rice rockets, manic panic, Noodle Planet, bud- not the beer- and carnitas. And now you know me. No matter where I go or what I do, this shits tattooed on my heart. i just realized today that what im writing is a love letter to this place. I am writing this motherfucking book, yo!

Y Kant Tori Read?

2011-03-15T13:06:00.000-07:00

I hope she's learned how to since the 80's cos i just finished writing a giant essay about her LAST night. I rewarded myself by waiting till the baby was asleep and then blasting Y Kant Tori read songs on youtube. This shit is amazing in a way I'm not sure Tori would like me to think it's amazing. It's like the theme song from Never Ending Story, Anna Domino and The Red Shoes era Kate Bush and all the hairstyles from the sunset strip circa Dr. Feelgood got together and had an immaculate conception while jerking off to the future image of Trent Reznor and Sandman comix.

Pure Awesome

2011-03-14T21:04:00.000-07:00

This song is a water bottle, a ray of sunshine in your eyes on a roller coaster, amber waves of grain, a thousand marathon runners breaking through the finish line, the soul of Artax signaling to you from the other side. It's okay Atreyu, he's not sad anymore.

Lazy is as Lazy Does

2011-03-13T15:25:00.000-07:00

Good newz, I'm busy, bad newz means I'm a lazy blogger. Gotta save all the working brain cells for out in the big bad world. In the meantime, still can't get enough of Men and I still love cats.
New music vid is radonk amazing.

I guess though if u look at what passes for content on tumblr I'm winning by leaps and bounds. Intentional brain damaged Sheen reference. Seriously, Martin, come get your ass backwards wife beating brain dead tumor of a son and 5150 his ass already. I just can't with that guy.

Who wants to buy me this first edition for my birthday?

F. Scott's old briefcase. I touches it, please?

Djuna, will you haunt me?

can you visit me in dreams and take me to paris where we can discuss blazers and green tea and hot burned coffee?

are you up to date on your Maru? if not click here to follow his blog. click here. on a serious side note how this cat can commence to play in the edges of his sofa after the terrifying and tragic and horrific things happening in his country is beyond me, or better yet how his owner can keep blogging the next day is wild beyond my reasoning, but perhaps a little Maru is just what the country needs. actually, i take that back, what the country needs is volunteers and food and electricity and help. in any event, here he is as a delightful young pup.

a room i would sleep in if i were a child.
also, i will be disabling my comments-once i figure out how- because non of you fuckers ever comment except for Cathy- Hi Cathy!- and im getting spammed by lame pharmaceutical companies in vietnam. besides, i can trace you anyway via my stat counter back to the very computer you used when you logged in to check from UC IRVINE. also, irvine, it tells me HOW MANY TIMES IN ONE HOUR. or you weird talent scout weirdo whose never e-mailed me or whoever you are at NBC UNIVERSAL, in new york. also, if you check my shit on your iphone it gives me your phone number and then i know who you are. oh SNAP. jokes on you, jerks. what? do you think I do this shit cos its fun? oh, wait...
jkjk i love you all. really!

Who Let the Emo's Out?

2011-03-10T00:00:00.001-08:00

I need to take a walk with sara and sophie
i need to buy people chocolate and books
i need to admit that i'm wrong a lot
i need to take responsibility for my own social estrangement
i need to write my grandma a letter letting her know how much she means to me
i need to not be afraid of success
i need to edit and not watch teen mom 2
i need to read the books that i buy
i need to let go of the fact that i have ugly feet, i have big boobs- really big!- it could be worse
i need to stop saying 'im sorry' when its not my fault
i need to stop secretly smelling my own breath to the point that other people think they have bad breath and turn their heads away
i need to stop wishing people were the way they aren't
i have to stop gripping the door handles in fear when other people drive and trust in their ability to get me from one place to the next alive.
i need to not be embarrassed by how much i love my cats. i love them so much.
i need to stop being embarrassed about poverty and to let others know why i'm really in pain and not make up other stupid reasons for why im upset.
i need to start being more honest about what's really going on or i will keep pushing people away
i need to be able to say stfu to someone when i'm not in the mood to listen. its ultimately better for both of us.
i need to not give a crap about what my boyfriend wears. he lets me dress the way i like.
i need to tend to my garden
and save my change
and re learn spanish
take a leap faith
and to not be ashamed of the fact that i am spiritual.
i am a good person, i'm guessing you are too.

N plus 1

2011-03-06T23:15:00.000-08:00

Sorry I'm always blogging about my cats and my boyfriend. It's a combination of me doing actual writing as of late and not wanting to siphon off too much energy here, and that I am boring now and these are the things that bring me joy. My gentle/weirdo man friend and my three fat boy cats. Anyway, Nick drew this in his notebook during a graduate writing class. This is where he goes inside his mind and it makes me love him so much. If you'd like to follow his tumbls click his John Doe on the blogroll to the left. Maiden name, Katzban, first name, Nick. More gems, dear readers, more gems indeed.

Spring Has Sprung!

2011-03-01T14:00:00.000-08:00

My yard is in bloom!

Work It!

2011-02-22T12:50:00.000-08:00

Everyone should come to this! It's on Thursday and it's gonna be awesome. I'm gonna be there and so are tons of other awesome peeps, like Margaret Wappler (who rulz) Ann Powers, Jen Smith, Emily Lacy, Daphne Carr and many otehrs.
click here for more info.

Monster Ballads

2011-02-22T12:29:00.000-08:00

Clearly I'm not running a fashion blog here, but these pics of Spicoli and Madonna are pretty awesome. Also, I'm sorry if you think the above song is the worst Madonna song on planet hell, but I fuckin love it and saw this movie in the theater with a huge group of girls for my 5th grade friend, Nina's, 11th birthday. It is also why I will always love Geena Davis, Tank Girl, Tom Hanks and Rosie O'Donnel. That is all.

Boyz! Boyz! Boyz!

2011-02-17T16:56:00.001-08:00

A look back at the original sausage links. Seriously this post is just an excuse to show this Cat Stevens video. I fuckin LOVE Cat Stevens. OMG, I do believe he might be the most beautiful man who ever lived/lives. I've had a crush on him since I was a little kid.

Coming in at a close second is young Chris Cornell. On a side note, one of the greatest underrated bands of all time. They were sludgy when it was popular to be punchy. Also, this video is an old time funny. It's a mockumentary. Seriously, Chris Cornell is so fucking hot. I'd still smush him, all anorexic looking and crazy brained like he is now.

The King. Fuck me, I love me some Elvis.

Marlon Brando, supreme man god of the movies. Also, read Pauline Kael's fabulous essay from Kiss Kiss Bang Bang about Marlon.

Penis Gallery namesake. Mr. Chase. The sexiest funny man. A real asshole asshat hotty.

The reason, I reason, I write. So brain sexy. That's it the entire first sexy sausage link.

In all seriousness, this list is a list of my all time top favorite men. Like the hottest doods I think ever lived. I've liked others, sure, but these are the top of the pops. Click for their original Sausage air date

New Camera!

2011-02-14T14:49:00.000-08:00

Athena gave me a new camera, thank you, Athena! I took test shots.
Look out Todd Selby! Casa de la Katzban.

Defender!

Prayers For Elizabeth

2011-02-12T12:10:00.000-08:00

I don't want to live in a world without Elizabeth Taylor. I know one day that day will come, but it's not now. She is in the hospital with her family beside her, fighting heart issues. Please send your thoughts and prayers.
Elizabeth was the first star to speak publicly about AIDS. She spoke on behalf of AIDS victims in the eighties, calling out Ronald Reagan and personally pinning the useless deaths of thousands of men and woman, on his silence. She has personally donated MILLIONS of dollars to AIDS research as well as raised large amounts through advocacy. She has been a tireless advocate for gay rights, freedom of choice, animal activism and most unjadedly, love. She is my hero and I truly believe she deserves a noble prize for peace. She is the most beautiful diamond. Hang in there Elizabeth, you are have more to do.

Dance Party!

2011-02-10T08:48:00.000-08:00

Valentines day, for the rest of us.

Hello Darkness My Old Friend

2011-02-08T23:38:00.000-08:00

I've been watching movies for five days.

Elaine! Also, I've never understood why Mrs. Robinson was portrayed as such a monster. Excuse her liberation - two snaps and a back of the hand- Seriously, WTF Elaine, excuse your mom for giving a shit. What, she's a dumb slut with no brains now because she likes to fuck, or would like to fuck? Geez louise, it doesn't shrivel up and disappear just cos you age a little. Elaine, give the lady a break. You're the one running into loveless marriages and then toward divorces and then onto random buses. Do you have a house in Beverly Hills? NO, Elaine, you don't, you just have your dumb puppy love. Maybe give the lady some credit for knowing a thing or two, smarty pants. Also, your boyfriends kind of a schmuck and his greatest scene on a bus isn't even with you, its with Jon Voight. In any event, this is still so great.
This movie here, this movie is in my top five. It's up there even before its predecessor. Jesus. Christ. This SCENE! Also, Appolonia is the bomb.

It is impossible for me to watch this movie without sobbing.

And one more time in technicolor, just because I've been living in this song.

I also found out that the Edwards Cinema in Alhambra, the movie theatre I went to a lot as a kid, is now $3 a movie! I think I will spend all of tomorrow there,

Battle Royale

2011-02-07T13:45:00.000-08:00

Today I met someone with a cat named Fuzz Aldren. I have never been filled with so much envy in my entire life. It angered me and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks, that I had not thought to name my cats Fuzz Aldren.

Weekdays With Wyatt

2011-02-01T20:22:00.000-08:00

Having been a nanny now for slightly more than half a decade, I can honestly say, I've never met a baby I didn't like. In fact, most people who say they don't like babies I would presume have never spent a great deal of time with any. Babies are lovely honest creatures, who if you meet one during your day, will most likely be the most straightforward person you will encounter that week. If they happen to be crying in a restaurant, it's only because they are as miserable to be there as you are to have them around. Taking babies to nice places is no fun, because babies, for the most part, don't understand 'nice' yet. They just are. They eat mashed bananas from a spoon shaped like a racecar. They care not for mood lighting, ambiance or having to 'keep it down.' In any event, I would rather spend my days earning a living taking care of wee babies than clocking in at a corporate job I don't really care for, in an an industry i don't have any interest in working in. I am blessed and cursed in knowing exactly what I want: the o'l attractive writer/professor combo, and until I get that old mighty book published or that PHD in English, and Dog willing that will be soon, I'm content to do this.
Babies though, are of course people, and we get along with some better than others, and well, Wyatt and I get along swimmingly. Wyatt and I share two of my greatest passions, long walks looking at architecture and amusing ourselves quietly. He is not intense and all of that, but very laid back and he loves to look and point. To smile at the scent of fresh lavender when I run a snapped sprig under his nose, or to make little 'oo'ing noises when we see an impressive building- in this case the Villa San Pasqual in Pasadena. We film ourselves dancing to Dynamite, Single Ladies, and California Girls, and lay on our stomachs and pull grass while listening to David Gilmour spill out from the insides of the house. We like chocolate and rice crackers, avocados and salt. Being with Wyatt is like being with Ollie, who is 7 now and I watched for three years. Ollie was my best friend in many ways, we saw each other at times more than I saw my roommates and friends, and him his mom and dad. Wyatt aside from sharing a similar resemblance, has a light and easy spirit in the same way. Where Ollie was an athlete, I believe that Wyatt, already is an artist.
He is lucky enough to live in one of the most walkable, beautiful parts of Pasadena, and we spend our mornings admiring the structures erected around us, Spanish Villa, English Tudor, turn of the century Bungalow, pre fab nineteen 50's modern, Grecian inspired 1920's romance. They are lovely mornings, awake before the sleepy, quiet world and we walk under oak trees, the sun warming us and call out to each other when we see something we like.

The Villa San Pasqual designed by Lionel Mayell, 'godfather of the condo.' these condos have been declared a historical monument and to buy one could easily set you back close to a mill.

beautiful caltech

Heretic!

2011-01-30T10:42:00.000-08:00

I'm a nerd, whatever.

the likeness is uncanny.

possible spoilers.

Out of the Blue

2011-01-27T11:16:00.000-08:00

My oldest friend, sister person Nandi just returned from South America, where she took pictures of Lamas and saw great old European buildings and beautiful woman making shawls and ate delicious food. During college she lived in Amsterdam for two years with her now husband, teaching English. They travelled to Greece, Thailand, all of Europe. Her parents are the kind of people who believe travel is important and support things like using student loans and credit cards to achieve valuable life experiences. It is not that my parents don't value these things, but every time i had a chance to travel, I got in my own way. The first summer after high school I spent in New York. It was here that I was the most optimistic about the future I've ever been. I was 19, young, slim as a green bean- not that that matters, but I remember feeling light and in turn this made me feel free and untethered. I would skip jump, walk hop to doors and twirl on subway poles and laugh and lean forward and swing back while talking. I was so so happy. It was decided- after much begging- that the next summer I could go to Europe. My father supported the idea and my mom was excited for me. But the next summer I didn't go. I spent the next twelve months after my return, pardon my french, fucking up in the most royal ways imaginable. To be fair, most of this behavior was reactionary, but still, everything turned into a three year blur that only started to clear up in 2006. But before that there was money spent on lawyers, rehab, replacing crashed cars. Going abroad got pushed to the back on the list of important things. Once in New York, I would open credit cards and fly home to visit my boyfriend. Three credit cards maxed out on flying to Long Beach, when I could have flown to Mexico City, or Paris or Japan.
And now I find myself 30, living mere miles from where I grew up. I support myself and it feels good, I like paying my own bills, and aside from one dreadful month this past summer, have been doing so since I was 26. A steady diet of hustling and babysitting. But now in hindsight, I have moments of regret. I of course can still travel, and i will, but not in the way I first imagined in high school, when I bought French maps and pasted pictures in my journal of the Eiffel Tower. If I were to travel tomorrow, I don't know if I would go to Paris, most likely I would visit Berlin, Morocco or Barcelona, or Japan, first. And of course I can still open a new credit card and just go, and deal with it later upon my return. And who knows I still might. But right now I just want to get my feet planted firmly on the ground.
I remember before I went to college I had lots of shame about not having gone, and in all reality, starting college at 23 is nothing to be embarrassed about, but at the time, I felt old, dirty and washed up. It's completely ridiculous if I think about it now. But I don't want to feel that way about travelling. I will leave the country when I'm supposed to. Most likely alone. As I find that I enjoy things best when I can be quiet and look in my own particular way, without the shadow of company. I went to the California Community College job fair last weekend and was told that I need to get a PHD if I am going to be a serious competitor in the college teaching job market. I had already silently conceded to this about a month ago and have decided to apply next fall. But that makes five more years. I can't say where I will be at 35, nor do I want to. I do know that although I regret some of my past decisions, they have all inevitably led me to where I am today. And no matter what anyone says about me, or accuses me of, I know I am a hard worker. I am moments away from achieving my ultimate dream, and that is a powerful awesome feeling that I know I owe to myself, no one else. And I own it. Maybe that will take me overseas. Maybe I am meant to experience Europe on a book tour. Who knows. Eye on the prize. Through all the muck and headaches, I have always had my eye on the prize. You should too.

Yoga handstands in Peru. Nandi is the bomb.

The Beets Go On

2011-01-24T19:22:00.000-08:00

The Beets Rule. Nick is really good friends with these doods and they are awesome.

If you live in New York you should see them live. It's actually pretty amazing/epic how awful they are- sorry Nick- live. But it's so sloppy it comes back around to genius.
They make cool music videos like the one above, and this one:

Anyway, I don't know how old the lead singer kid is and i don't want to know, he's hot and looks 19 and spazzy and zonked out on being 19. Which I'm grooving on.
They also have an 'official artist' Matt Volz who is certifiably gifted and makes rad drawings like this:

It looks like a cross between Lynda Barry's Ernie Pooks Comeek- which I have been obsessed with since I was kid- and the Malaysian Lat comics, by Lat, that I have also loved since I was a kid. So basically I love this Matt Volz guy. Who coincidentally is friends with my first roommate ever, Michell Matson, who is the creator of the zine Hands On and most importantly an incredible artist who makes stuff like this:

Michelle is a beauty. And actually, our third roommate Jaqueline, has turned into a pretty successful photographer. You can visit her blog here click me!. So I guess, go us!

It's a small Brooklyn after all.

A Few Good Men

2011-01-22T19:30:00.000-08:00

Nick made Latkes for Hanukkah!

I am a rich girl.

Little My

2011-01-22T15:31:00.000-08:00

From the Moomins. Daniel thinks i look like her now.

Satellite of Love

2011-01-21T23:31:00.000-08:00

Heather n Earl. Ripped from C-dogs facebook.

So Fresh and So Clean

2011-01-19T13:51:00.000-08:00

Me in highschool. 1996.

Weird Like Us by Ann Powers is AMAZING. If you haven't read it you should. It's beautiful. Ann is just such an incredible, moving, vivid writer. I really really love having people to admire. It feels nice, right? Don't you love having little stars in the sky to dream on? It's a big conversation, through yourself into it!

Woah!

2011-01-17T20:31:00.000-08:00

this happened, i went. my mom, god bless her.

1 plus 1 equals too cool for everyone else!

2011-01-15T01:28:00.000-08:00

I'm not saying they saved the best for last, but all I'm going to say is that my birthday season of friends is over until June.
Happy Birthday Hee Haw. In the words of grumpy Jack Nicholson to bitchy Helen Hunt in that piece of garbage movie As Good as it Gets, 'You complete me.' Or was that Jerry Maquire?

bitching

bowling

gettin hiiiigh- in the old days of course-

rocking

dancing

philosophising

you make everything better.
ps. your perfect pear and my perfect apple made one hell of a beach fruit salad.

River of Slime

2011-01-13T20:04:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking a lot about Led Zeppelin lately- I love Led Zeppelin- and of high school, about the 90's. I'm writing a book you see. That's when it takes place. I might need an intern soon, actually, but that's for another post, another day. And the thing i've come up with is that I have always mourned the past during the present, and that my life in a big way has been spent worrying about the things that are happening while I'm away doing something else, the things that will never be, how things have changed, and the people I'll never see again. But then I become so overwhelmed i throw up my hands and do nothing. Forever trapped in an endless cycle of music listening and mourning. I've had four therapists and one psychiatrist since I was 13 and I had to make sense of that on my own. I'll tell you what I miss so badly, and it's been palatable as of late- I've strangely been around old friends from high school- I miss getting stoned and deliberately saying 'no' no i will not be an active participant in my life. I miss living in my room in my moms house and closing the door and just sinking into my bed to watch TV. It's true what the old folks say, youth is wasted on the young. My mind is a hive of activity for which I can't seem to wrap my arms around. This person I always thought I was, I deep down knew I always wasn't. I'm an asshole. But, I'm not at all. Not all the time. I help strangers every day, I care more about the man who doesn't speak English at the train station, making sure he gets his ticket and gets on safe, even missing my own train to make sure he catches his, than I do about meeting a friend on time for lunch. Because that friend will undoubtedly expect something from me. But that man, he expected nothing. My dad did this shit all the time, my mom always rails at me for being like my dad. I always feel like I'm being left but really, I always do the leaving. My dad once pulled over to pull two fighting men apart, and I watched from the pick up truck, frightened shocked, as he protected the smaller man. My white as white can be dad, pulling apart these two tough looking brown dudes, so that they might get home okay. He made sure each one left separately, who knows what happened later, but in that moment, everything was okay. And then he came home and my mom and him railed at each other. One time he pulled over and pulled a fire extinguisher from the truck and put out another car on fire, on the freeway. Then he would disappear for three days with no word. How he could be so kind and such an ass fuck, I now completely understand. It's easier. lighter, simpler. I want to float through life sometimes that way on a wave of marijuana smoke. I always thought when I'd get certain things I'd be content; published, the perfect boyfriend, a license, whatever, but all I want is the next publication, my boyfriend annoys me, I'm now afraid to drive. I always thought I'd want to birth a baby, but I find myself visiting the CA adoption websites and looking at the faces of twelve year olds and sobbing and it somehow seems more tangible, desirable, than the alternative. I want a house, on a hill that belongs to me, and has built ins. Sometimes when I see an open house sign I stop and go inside. There are lots of them in Highland Park these days. And I take the paper from the real estate agent and I think, this is what I really want. My own home, with my adoptive child. The two of us making our own way in the world, separate but together, and we could get Thai takeout and rent videos and go to museums and get frustrated with homework and argue and then read quietly together in the living room on Sunday, in craftsman chairs, the Times in our lap, and my whole body feels sunny and warm and I can see it and by the time I get back to the car, I've painted and decorated the entire thing in my head. 2011, you're a funny one.
I am falling out of love with so many things it hurts, I am falling out of love with certain aspects of who I am and people, too, of course. And its painful and i cry and I don't want to face these things. But there it is, we are all shitty humans who claw and smell and fight and have golden voices and then one day, don't. I am a morbid, alcoholic, asshole, writer. And no matter how much I cover it up with jokes and smiles and bursts of manic love, I am no more than a not yet burned out Bukowski, or Fante, or Woolf. I am a curmudgeon, I like to be alone, I don't think your jokes are funny, I think you are a racist, I am not easy going, I am tough to love, hard to know and I am suspicious and paranoid and impatient. But, I put the booze on hold five years ago next month, wooo hoo, and the weed is just a memory and I like clothes and movies and music, of course. I love to dance and laugh and sing when I have a karaoke mic in my face. But underneath I am like the sewers of Manhattan in Ghostbusters two- bwauhaha- waiting for one negative vibe too many to send me over the edge. I just, and this is why I hate the internet now, it's gotten too big and this is why I don't want my mom reading my fucking blog and she goes, 'but everyone else can read it, it's all over the internet, I don't understand', everyone else, mom, might as well be nobody else, they are strangers and I don't know them, and they only know me here, and those who do know me, at parties, don't walk up to my face and say, 'hey, i read you're depressed' and so forth and so on and all I want is Led Zeppelin. But you know what I don't do? Slut shame, you know why? Cos sometimes I really wish I was still a slut. Ladies, ladies, that is the one thing we should honestly stop doing, the slut shaming is the worst. Really, the zits pits. And honestly, we should all mind our own damn business anyway. Wear whatever you want, fuck who you please, bite your nails and hike up your skirt, laugh at his jokes when they aren't funny, love that bag from forever 21 and keep it full of makeup and small mirrors. For real, no joke, I love you young lady I don't even know. You are free and alive. Just put a condom on it. I don't give a FUCK. Oh look at me, look at me, so internet tuff.

On a completely different side note, this is Tom Hanks son, Chet Haze, and he is a white rapper:

AMAZING.
Tom Hanks, other son, Colin, was in one of my favorite movies, the brilliant piece of cinema, Orange County. Colin looks like this:

He's a dream, isn't he? Anyway, I was like, whats up, mang, Tom Hanks is such a rubber nose, where are all these hot genes he's been storing? And then I googled young t. hanks, because when I became acquainted with him was during the Joe vs. the Volcano and Turner and Hooch, era, I'm a little too young for Bosom Buddies- which even later when I saw re-runs he was in drag and not an opportune way to establish hotness- but low and behold I found this:

Well, color me shocked cos Tom Hanks was hot! I feel like I've been living in the dark this entire time.

Crazy In Love- With a Birthday Girl!

2011-01-12T13:10:00.000-08:00

Charlotte is a goddess. She makes the sun shine through the rain. She makes feet happy that they can dance. She makes love easy and familiar and kind and gentle and funny and wonderful. Happy Birthday, Charo, I wuv ru!

Charlotte with a squirrel.
ps. I will marry you in a Panama wedding on a lunar eclipse and Wilma Jane and a sloth will officiate and Nick and Andrew can carry Fats, Tut, Pants, and Marlowe to our beach hut, shut the door after they drop them off and walk away forever into the sunset never to be seen from by the likes of us again. I marry you, I marry you, I marry you!

Little Darlings

2011-01-08T21:42:00.000-08:00

My dad loves this song.

I talk about my moms family a lot, but my dad, in all honesty, is pretty great too. Here I am with my dad and grandma last year. They are both amazing people that I love. I think we all look nice here. Were from Los Angeles. That's all.

SECRET SHOP!

2011-01-05T17:57:00.001-08:00

The amazing, beautiful, talented Kitty Jensen will be setting up a Secret Shop, Pop Up at Space 15 Twenty for the month of January.
January 8th, Anna Oxygen, Becky Stark, Mira and the Finches will be playing a show to celebrate! Yay! That's actually a kick ass lineup now that I look at it closer. Holy fuck, if you can you should go to this show. Anyhow, its at Space 15 Twenty, January 8th from 3- 7 pm, come, shop and find some finds and enjoy the festivities! click here for address and details.

And if you don't go for the clothes, go for Kitty, cos she's a gem! Sadly though, Ira won't be there.

Conflict of Interest?

2011-01-03T14:26:00.000-08:00

Seriously, did Matt Le Blanc just look way better holding a bottle than other actors? Is the bottle a metaphor for the wang? Who knows, but apparently Matt can't advertise anything that isn't cylinder shaped and filled with refreshment and or 'goodness.' He also seems to not mind the 'wait.'

Feliz Coupleanos, Paulito!

2011-01-01T10:05:00.000-08:00

Paul, you've got my love locked down. Paul is the sweetest, most talented, kindest, funniest, love ever. You are a gentle, subtle human who's charms and secrets come with trust and time, but once you get them they are ten fold and worth the wait! Being friends with you is like always finding the perfect potted plant at the OSH garden center and having it bloom brilliant colors for weeks to come. Happy birthday in this New Year!

Funny You Should Ask

2010-12-31T14:37:00.000-08:00

My personal top of pops. Enjoy and Happy New Year!!!!!!!

best part? the tags in marker on the knuckles. it washes off. download it now.

its time to make some music videos, you old men. just kidding, if youre old than so am i. ride on, rock on forever.

get lost in this one. its like joni mitchel on helium on acid on boones.
Things to look forward to:
Emily Lacy full length next month/this month
EMA this spring
Men, soon?

From the old timey vault

2010-12-29T16:45:00.000-08:00

Googling yourself is like masturbating, everyone does it alone when the door is locked, so lets all just get over that right now. Okay, so I found this earlier while jerking myself off. It's from 2005. I'm honestly a little embarrassed by how much wittier and cleverer I was back then. Maybe a wet brain really does do a writer good. Oh Gawker, Dr. Mishkin, New York, what a dream.

And just for shits and giggles, I offer this absolutely mesmerizing interview with Leonardo Dicaprio conducted by Daisy Fuentes that disolves into this incredible cringe ride that alternates between total rudeness, flirtation, mutual dislike and then absolute raw sexual chemistry and then peters out into a clip of young Leo being straddled by a 90's actress blonde. The best part? When Leo mispronounces the name of the films screenwriter and then checks his watch on air. All the while Daisy refuses to play the apologetic ninny, holding her own and even taking the last shot. It is riveting, riveting stuff.

After Basketball Diaries young Leo played Rimbuard. Whatta wanna bet he's got some dusty, nineties notebook scribbled with bad poetry? Like my man Katzban likes to say "Someone telling me their favorite poet is either Bob Dylan or Tupac Shakur is like if I said my favorite Blues singer was Jim Belushi." ps, thats a link dummy!

Cum Again!

2010-12-14T18:29:00.001-08:00

Before I peace out completely for the Holiday's I would like to say this:
I know you're reading, why not say hi? Don't let the spam commenters have all the fun.
In any event, I hope you enjoyed your stay. But lay a little wordage on me if you don't mind, lets make this a symbiotic kinda thang.

X (mas) Games

2010-12-13T20:45:00.000-08:00

I will be taking a brief Holiday sabbatical from blogging in order to spend time with friends, family, travel and worship of my December pagan god of choice. And also to work, I have two 1000 word pieces due by the first. Fuck me. In any event, I hope you have a wonderful chrismakwanzahanukasoltice time of it!
I'll be back when I'm back, most likely in two weeks. Lots of love.

Party till Mercury goes into Retrograde!!!

2010-12-11T11:29:00.000-08:00

Cathy, the animal communicator called and she said its your birthday!!! Shine on you crazy diamond, shine on!

Back in the day.

xoxoxoxoxo <3

Lady Magic!

2010-12-11T11:26:00.001-08:00

What do you get when you mix a pinch of Anni Hall

a dash of Kate Bush

And one wild rose?

The beautiful, chanteuse Kate! Look, she's casting a spell right now!

Happy birthday Kate! You are the best best ever, the bees knees! I <3 u!

It's A Violent World

2010-12-08T11:39:00.000-08:00

Silence equals death is not a joke. The irony of David Wojnarowicz being censored in a show about understanding the 'other' experience is even more stupid and infuriating. Literally, its stuff like this that makes me not want to step foot out of my house. It's disgusting and ignorant that certain people in the art world still feel the need to bow to a bunch of hypocritical, most likely closeted, assholes, who are afraid of what might happen if people start to think for themselves, when lord knows they would never ever do the same in return. God save those who twist gods wisdom for their own shitty gain. My god is my childhood dog with sweet breath and my grandfather breaking peanut shells and handing them to me. Censor that, ass fucks.
Here is the video in question. Repost if you can. It's also screening this Sunday at Workspace at 7 pm. 2601 Pasadena Ave, Los Angeles, 90031

Here's some of his art. I really didn't know that much about him until this whole fiasco happened. I certainly knew who he was, but wasn't overly familiar with his style. I actually love his work now and have become quite obsessed with it in the past week. I love his use of color, the southwest, childhood psychosis and sexuality. So in that regard, this gross thing the Smithsonian has done has a dull silver lining, it is exposing his art, negatively in some cases, to people who had never really become acquainted with it. In that way, perhaps, it might still make an impact on how people think and feel, hopefully other people out there like myself will go from just having him be a name in their back pocket to becoming an actual artist they admire, whose work they previously hadn't engaged with. I think these images are beautiful.

This one is my favorite.

David is third from left.

100 Women Strong!

2010-12-06T15:28:00.001-08:00

No Wind, No Rain

2010-12-04T01:05:00.000-08:00

Funny lady, Rachel.

College was awesome for many reasons, one of them was getting to know amazing people who shared your same interests, challenged your ideas and inspired you to work harder and be better at what you do. I made some great friends in undergrad but none of them has offered me this rare opportunity to push myself more than Rachel. Aside from being styley, fun to run around central park with, get bbq on the upper west side with or smoke a bowl with on a Brooklyn balcony, she is fiercely smart, talented and most of all an incredible writer. In school we both loved music, talking about it, listening to it, walking through Diana Ross park and singing it. We have had similar trajectories. It's just fun to know someone who is after the same bones as you. We have remained in touch as I went off to Cal Arts, and she got on the No. 1 train to Columbia. I'd like to think we have gained strength in having an ally and someone in our corner. That is why I am so so so excited and proud to know her this week. Her piece on Jay Z in the New York Observer is so brilliant it makes my head spin. For real, it's already gotten rave reviews and kicked up controversy in the few days that it's been out. Adam Wilson at BlackBook said this the day it came out:

Anyway, click here to read the entire thing, you won't be sorry.

Mating Rituals

2010-12-03T13:11:00.001-08:00

Back to Business

2010-11-30T13:08:00.000-08:00

"I'm just twenty-two and I don't mind dyin."

Time to put away the personal platitudes and portraits and get back to the business at hand. The amazing, fierce, smart as a smart can be, critic of all things that need to be critiqued, music/feminist warrior Erika Anderson aka EMA is back, sans her badass band Gowns -r.i.p- with her new project, AWE and let me tell you, this stuff is crisper, more cutting and cleaner than anything she's done before. It's as if her vision has been funneled and reduced to a super potent potion. One drop goes a long way.
click here for two unreleased tracks from her upcoming EP
California (Boys) is AMAZING.
Here's a snippet of the music vid that is forth coming, by Erika. But click the link for the entire track.

Just Say That You Love Me

2010-11-22T14:42:00.000-08:00

Excuse me while I toot my own horn here. Best Music Writing came out and in the introduction Ann Powers said the most amazing thing anyone has ever said about my writing ever. Ann is basically one of my heroes and when i read it, I died. The book is out now so go give it a read! Lots of amazing, amazing pieces by Sasha Frere Jones, Michelle Tea, Randall Roberts, Robert Christgua, Jessica Hopper and Mary Gaitskil, to name a few.
In other news, Nick has a new blog, ahem, sorry, Tumblr, Tumble, where he is posting the awesomeness that is his brain. Go see why I love the guy so much. He's even posting some of his poetry, which is what he's in grad school for, so you better believe its good stuff! click here to be transported to a tumblr orgy
Heather has been in town and we've been kicken it. Here's us at Antie Ems. Courtesy of Athena Schindelhiems.

Okay, schmos, talk soon.
Also, things you should read if you haven't already
The Ihop Papers by Ali Liebegott, The Lost Art of Reading, by David Ulin and Passionate Mistakes and Intricate Corruption of One Girl in America by Michelle Tea, any article in ArtForum by Catherine Taft.

Let your love light shine

2010-11-19T12:52:00.000-08:00

In 1969, 27-year- old Dr. William J. Kaufmann III became the youngest Director at any major observatory in the United States. His youth and vitality fueled his efforts to bridge the gap between the scientific community and the general public to allow everyone to share in the advances of astronomy.

Under Kaufmann's direction, Griffith Observatory would host a lunar exhibit, showcasing lunar rocks that allowed visitors to see up-close a piece of the celestial object which has been viewed countless times through the Observatory's telescopes. The exhibits in the Hall of Science reflected the public's interest in the space program, with an exhibit of a "spacemobile" and models of other spacecraft.

The new information about the moon learned by Apollo 11 and 12 also led to a new planetarium show entitled "New Discoveries from the Moon," which not only presented data but also dealt with the practical issue of whether these efforts were worth their lofty price tags.

In 1973, the first Laserium show in the U.S. was presented in the Observatory's planetarium theater. This laser-light program, set initially to classical music and later to songs from artists such as Pink Floyd, proved to be instantly popular. These exhibitions of modern laser light technology were conducted by a "laser-artist" (Laserist for short) with computer-programmed material to create eye-catching images. Kaufmann's goal to reach out to the public extended beyond theatrics, and in 1972 the Observatory premiered its first planetarium show in Spanish. Dr. Kaufmann left the Observatory in 1974 to pursue other interests and passed away in 1995.

Dress You Up

2010-11-16T21:41:00.001-08:00

A little vanity never hurt anybody. New cut, new color, a few new clothes.

I'm Sick :(

2010-11-08T18:41:00.000-08:00

American Trilogy

2010-11-03T22:48:00.000-07:00

As much as it might seem dark and hopeless right now, good things have come in the past from the midst of frustration, anger and disbelief. All at times when we thought it couldn't get worse. This country is all kinds of fucked up, not even taking into consideration the people who have been stepped on, wiped out and used to get where we are now. That aside, we are also a country of loving, compassionate, wonderful, intelligent, capable strong willed individuals, despite our flaws. I'm typing this as much for me as you, dear readers. After all, this country made jazz, coca cola- neither of these things I particularly enjoy, but still!-we line soup kitchens to feed our poor and when we are the poor, we still pause to give thanks, I'm not being corny!! It's true and we know it, we have made beautiful art, erected amazing universities and institutions and in the past admitted when we needed help, or were the first to rush out and offer a hand to those in need. We have opened our arms to the idea of personal freedoms, when we work, there's no one else like us. I have always loved, deeply loved American culture, all its fucked up flaws included. Andy Warhol and I have that in common. Anyway, don't let a few scared, backwards, moonshine fucks give us a bad name. And lets not be be like them either and hate all people that look or sound like them, after all, Elvis is of this country and I live and breathe and go to work in the same country as the great, now dearly departed King. Is there anything so beautiful sounding as the voice of Elvis Presley singing gospel? I am not a religious person, well, I might be Unitarian if push came to shove, but that's something else entirely, Elvis loved god, his country, and all the little children and he moved a nation with his velvety goodness, with his simple belief in human solidarity. He sang for all people, at all times. Lets move gain, forward and onward, oh yes, in the name of Elvis, tonight I go on.
post script: if you are a religious person and you do pray, pray that all those before mentioned homophobic, racist, misogynist confused sad fucks, pick up a book, read it, and learn a goddamn thing or two. The worst part is, iced tea was and always has been my favorite beverage, lately, i find myself ordering coffee. Lets drink tea again, lets drink tea and not be ashamed!

Muuuuusssssiiiiiiiiiic!

2010-11-01T16:12:00.000-07:00

I cannot stop listening/watching. Gooooood stuff.

Happy Halloween Weekend!!

2010-10-30T16:30:00.000-07:00

One night down, two to go! I hope everyone has a great Halloween and stays safe and rocks out till the break o dawn. xooxoxox

Gutterballs